


Return To Your Roots

by A_Modern_Girl



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Endgame AU, Gen, In Defense of [Neelix's] Food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:55:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28255788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Modern_Girl/pseuds/A_Modern_Girl
Summary: Crewman Chell is running into some unexpected difficulties taking over the mess hall from Neelix.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 14
Collections: To the Journey: Found Family in Star Trek, Voyager Bit Parts and Cameos, Voyager Writing Game Prompts





	Return To Your Roots

**Author's Note:**

> In the original Endgame timeline, what issues might Chell have encountered as the new head chef? For the prompt: a lower decks character saves the day. Thank you [Caladenia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caladenia/pseuds/Caladenia) for the thoroughly helpful beta!

The trouble starts just days after you take over as _Voyager_ ’s head chef. It’s not your recipes - the inventory reports show that the crew eats more of your cooking than Neelix’s fare. But something isn’t quite right. The mess hall isn’t the bustling hub of social activity that you have come to expect over the last seven years.

Maybe the recent encounter with the Borg has dampened everyone’s spirits. You hope things will soon be back to normal.

***

The problem is getting worse. There are too many long faces, too many empty tables. After dinner one night, you take Ensign Kim aside and ask him how he’s doing.

“Has anything been bothering you lately?” you ask, casually.

“Well now that you mention it,” Kim replies, “I’ve been feeling a little lost lately. We’re pushing through sector after sector. It’s just hard to get my bearings, you know?”

Harry’s observation parallels your own feelings of unease, although you don’t admit it aloud. You make some reassuring noises, but Kim doesn’t look any happier when he leaves. Is it just you and Harry, or is this feeling of dislocation bothering the rest of the crew? You shake your head and return to the kitchen to check on your Red Alert Chili.

***

The atmosphere in the mess hall has gotten so bad, every day feels like a funeral luncheon. It’s time to take your concerns to the top: you request an appointment with Captain Janeway. Seated in her ready room, you lay out your problem. Janeway doesn’t contradict you or interrupt, but she doesn’t have a solution either.

“It sounds like the crew need some comfort and cheer,” she says.

“I agree, but how?” you ask, unable to contain your exasperation.

The captain narrows her eyes. Maybe you’ve pushed too hard. To your relief, she sits back in her chair and smiles.

“Whenever I am faced with a task I don’t know how to handle,” she says, “I think of a person I would trust with the job and try to imagine what they would do.”

You’re not quite sure how to make sense of this advice, but you can see in the captain's eyes that you are about to be dismissed. So you flash your brightest smile and hastily make an exit, pondering her words as you go.

***

Several more dreary days pass before inspiration strikes. You wake up at 0300 and bolt upright in bed. Of course! This is a crew striving to get home, but they also need a home. And what says home better than food?

You throw off the covers and race to the cargo bay. Your pajamas draw some amused glances, but this is far too important for protocol. You race to the back of the store room, tossing aside crates and containers until you find what you are looking for.

“Aha!” You can’t suppress the giant grin on your face.

Salvation is here, in this dusty, forgotten bin. You are sure of it.

***

“What is that _smell_?”

You look up in time to see Lieutenant Paris and Ensign Kim wrinkling their noses in disgust. You smirk from behind your stock pot, then step out as if you hadn’t heard a thing.

“Gentlemen! For lunch today we have Leola Root Stew - my special blend!”

“I thought Neelix took all of that with him!” Ensign Kim groans.

“We still have five bushels!” you exclaim, “And you know what they say — waste not, want not!”

You fill their bowls and watch them find a table. They look just as dejected as before. Was your theory wrong? Or does the stew need more paprika?

You are still considering spices and herbs when you hear it. Tal Celes is laughing at something Crewman Telfer said. Laughing in your mess hall! You don’t need Vulcan super-hearing to guess the subject of Telfer’s joke. Suddenly another sound overwhelms the first. Paris and Kim are debating who owes replicator rations to whom.

As the rest of the lunch crowd files in, the noise becomes a din. It’s so foreign, you almost clap your hands over your ears. Instead, you return to your kitchen, and you sigh with relief. It turns out the solution to the problem was simple. You can almost see Neelix’s nod of approval.

All your crew needed was a taste of home.


End file.
